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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395194">enjoy the silence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishgaar/pseuds/squishgaar'>squishgaar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Metalocalypse (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:21:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishgaar/pseuds/squishgaar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Skwisgaar remembers his childhood wishes during a rather snowy morning at Mordhaus.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nathan Explosion/Skwisgaar Skwigelf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>enjoy the silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello ! this is pretty short, but i thought i would post it here since it's kind of ? my first fic !<br/>this is for @little_murmaider because they asked for soft Nategaar. of course i had to throw a little angst in though ;0c<br/>i hope you guys enjoy !</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A morning like any other in Mordhaus. The smell of coffee and bacon floated in the air and snow fell outside. Skwisgaar rested on the edge of Nathan’s bed, staring out the window into the blizzard. He was supposed to be getting dressed, but the snow had caught his eye. It was snowing like it used to in Sweden, the Earth around Mordhaus blanketed before him and Nathan had woken up. His lips pursed into a thick frown. He had mixed feelings about snow.<br/><br/>On one hand, it was one of the many things that by looking at it, he felt calm. But it was also something that every time he stared too far into the snowy abyss, he thought he could feel his Mother’s grasp on his shoulder. The Swede put a hand onto his right shoulder. Nothing. She wasn’t touching him, but it felt like she was here. He rose from the bed and went to the window. Out into the snow, there was nothing. It was all white except for the blinking red lights of Mordhaus. She was there though, even if it looked like there was nothing. She was there. </p>
<p>He let out a long breath, fogging the window and placing his fingertips right under the fog. He was in Sweden again. That stupid little fort he built in the woods was there too. All the nuts and pinecones he collected were in his sweater and he dropped then into the already large collection he had. He would decorate the pinecones later, when he had time. Right now he could hear his mother yelling. The last time he hadn’t answered her, she sent the police after him, so he knew it wise to come home. The young Swede grabbed his boots, putting them back on. He liked walking the forest barefoot, and here, his mother couldn’t yell at him about it. Grabbing a pinecone, he hopped up and bounded back home, snow crunching heavily under his boots.<br/><br/>When he was only a few yards from his house, he could see the door was open. He hurried more toward the house, wanting to grab his guitar and leave. He knew what the open door meant. <em> I have a guest. Get in and get out. </em> When he got inside, he dropped his boots for a minute. He could finally feel an ache of hunger in his stomach, and he wanted a snack. The kitchen was a little messy, a few dishes in the sink and three plastic cups scattered across the counters, one leaving a trail of rotten milk on the marble. He huffed at the state of the milk, pinching his nose and grabbing his stool. The cabinets were still too high for him, so he climbed counters a lot. He pulled the stepstool out and crawled onto the counter, his knee landing in the spoiled milk. A groan left him, but he kept going. He opened the cabinet and checked for something to eat. There were only some granola bars and bread on the lowest shelf. He grabbed them both. The Swede attempted to carefully push himself off the counter, scooting his knees slowly backwards. Eventually, one found the milk again, and he slipped, falling chest first onto the counter and then butt first onto the floor.<br/><br/>“Fuckings.. dildo!” He yelled. Vocabulary he picked up from his mother, as well as some cool kids at school. He could hear groaning upstairs and he gave a sort of snarled frown. “Not likes I’m hurts or anykings downs here!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. A loud moan.<br/><br/>Skwisgaar made fake vomiting sounds, pointing his finger into his mouth as he did. He rolled his eyes and sat up again. His mother would finish with her guest when she pleased. He might as well go. The boy got up and went to his room, dropping the bread and granola bars on his bed while he changed and got his guitar. Unfortunately, he could only change his sweater. The rest of his pants were in a laundry basket he’d forgotten to take to the washer.<br/><br/>He put his guitar on his back, using the strap like a carrying case. Snatching up the bread and granola bars, he headed out. “Skwisgaar.” He blinked and looked around. Nathan’s voice.<br/><br/>“Skwisgaar!” He blinked again at loud snapping. Nathan again. A hand on his shoulder. “Skwisgaar, you there?” He looked up. Nathan was staring down at him with a tense, concerned look on his face.<br/><br/>“You spaced out really hard there, are.. you alright?” Skwisgaar nodded.<br/><br/>“Eugh.. ja. Fine, just thinkings..” He looked out at the snow for a second and then turned back to Nathan. Nathan raised his eyebrow. He could tell something was wrong with Skwisgaar. He just didn’t know what yet. He’d bother him about it while they ate.<br/><br/>“Alright. Breakfast is ready, c’mon.” The guitarist nodded curtly, following him into the kitchen and plopping himself into the seat beside Nathan. Whenever they had breakfast they always sat together, mostly because mornings were Nathan’s favorite time to be latched to Skwisgaar like a magnet.<br/><br/>Skwisgaar tapped his fingers on the table, a riff he was working on, as Nathan gave him his coffee. They were silenced as he took a sip of the completely black, no sugar, no cream mixture. It was very bitter and scalding hot, but it was just how he liked it.<br/><br/>“Okay, tell me what’s wrong.” Nathan was settling next to him with a plate of bacon and french toast.<br/><br/>“Snow ams just makes me thinks about my moder.” He said, taking another sip of coffee and then placing it beside his plate. He’d eat later. For some reason, he didn’t really have much of an appetite.<br/><br/>“Oh. Yea. Her.” Skwisgaar could feel the anger in Nathan’s voice, could see him grip his fork a little tighter. “She’s a fucking asshole. I told you if she’s calling you-”<br/><br/>“She amen’ts. Not afters de last time.”<br/><br/>“Good.” He huffed, taking a bite of French toast. Silence for a moment, then Nathan began to speak. “We can talk about it if-”<br/><br/>“Nos it ams okay. Reallys, Nat’ans.” He insisted, poking his french toast with his fork. He really wasn’t hungry. His eyes flickered to the window again. The pigment in his face slowly drained, staring into the snow. She was there again, he could feel it. </p>
<p>He crashed through the woods, running as fast as his legs could carry him with the Explorer on his back. His face was red with cold and a slap he’d been given by his mother. Disrespectful of him to yell at her like that. Disrespectful. <em> Disrespectful. </em> The word repeated on his lips as he ran, not wanting to be anywhere near that house. The snow loudly crunched under his feet, until he was met with a branch. He fell face first into the snow, and screamed into it. Slamming his fists onto the ground and kicking his legs, he screamed louder. He was angry and his face hurt and now he was covered in snow. In fact, he was so angry, tears were rolling down his cheeks. He sniffed and pulled his face out of the snow, hitting it again with his fists.<br/><br/>It was late and he was cold and tired and mad. He wanted to be home. He wanted his life to be normal, honestly. He wanted his mother to love him, because right now it really didn’t seem like she loved him. She didn’t even understand him, at all. He let out a drawn out sigh and sat up finally, wiping his face hastily with his snow covered hands. The boy hiccuped uncontrollably, wiping and wiping at tears that kept coming. Disrespectful. The word rolled out of his mouth again, a whisper in between the small cries.<br/><br/>A shrill scream came out of him again, trying to let out some of this anger he couldn’t seem to get rid of. If his mother loved him so much, why would she do all the things she did? She claimed to love him all the time, but then did these things. Another sniff. He used his shirt sleeve to get rid of remaining tears. The Explorer on his back was slipping a little and he tightened the strap. It had hit his back pretty hard when he fell and he could already feel the bruises forming.<br/><br/>He didn’t think about them right now though, he just stared up at the sky. Millions of stars stared back down at him. One of them streaked against the sky, and he silently wished for a friend. Another streak. He wished for someone who loved him. A real family who would take care of him.<br/><br/>Maybe Dethklok was just that for him. Skwisgaar sat at the breakfast table, thinking about this as he sipped his coffee. “Nat’ans?” He looked up at his boyfriend beside him.<br/><br/>Nathan was in the middle of a piece of french toast and gave a ‘hmph?’ since his mouth was full. Skwisgaar snorted a little at his face and shook his head. “Amen’ts imporkants.”<br/><br/>“What is it?” Nathan asked whenever he’d swallowed his food.<br/><br/>“Really, ams nothings.” He promised, putting his cup down and then a hand on Nathan’s. It was too sappy to say, anyways. Nathan definitely wasn’t going to hear <em> those </em> words come out of his mouth. He slid over into his seat and settled into his lap. Better. His forehead gently rested against Nathan’s and he dug his fingers in his hair, running them through it. It was very soft. Ever since Skwisgaar had shown Nathan a certain conditioner, it had become even softer than before.<br/><br/>“Are.. you sure?” He raised an eyebrow again, and Skwisgaar nodded against his head.<br/><br/>“Ams nothingks.” He promised again. He leaned in, his hair blocking a stray Klokateer’s view as he pressed a gentle kiss on Nathan’s lips. Maybe Dethklok was that family he’d wished for, and maybe Nathan was that someone who loved him. That friend who understood him, and the love of his life. Maybe.<br/><br/>He pulled away and gave a little laugh under his breath. He didn’t know why he was letting himself believe in such fairy tales again. </p>
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